


Morning star

by wanderingsmith



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: "Goodnight is very good with hair."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> don't ask me where this came from. the core just appeared out of nowhere when I was fighting to set up a new computer at work... getting it fleshed out has been a rollercoaster. and I'm done waiting for it to live up to it's aura, lol.

"Goodnight is very good with hair."

The child turned her dust-speckled, suspicious, expression away from Goody to aim it at Billy, "How would *you* know? Does he have a wife?"

"No. He has me." Billy took a last step and slowly crouched down besides Goody, then turned his head so that she could see his bun, finding himself squinting at the sunlight after being indoors for so long. He hadn't thought to bring his hat for his short airing.

"Oooh… may I see it?"

However glad he was to hear the child's tone lose its defensiveness, Billy still hesitated, taken aback. He turned back to look at Goody, not entirely sure why the notion felt so odd. 

 

Goody smiled reassurance for the almost visible confusion in Billy's expression. Considering Goody'd only ever seen his hair down when they were alone, it wasn't surprising that such a request would throw him off, but the poor child certainly meant no harm. Most of the children of the town had watched Billy with awed curiosity, before the battle, completely un-fazed by his impassive persona. Quite a few of the adults had also been awed, for that matter; Goody's smile widened at the pleasant thought. Billy's blank expression had kept the townsfolk from trying to get friendly, but Goody wasn't sure the man would have appreciated wide-scale attempts at friendliness, anyway.

When Billy finally nodded, half at Goody, half at little Danica, and turned his head, Goody reached over and gently pulled out the first pin, and then the second with a very slight flourish, making sure his hand was out of the way for the hair to uncurl and flow, almost reaching to the rough planks Goody was sitting on, with the way Billy held himself hunched, these days. 

He'd always loved the sight of light playing on those silky strands of darkness, not least because it seemed part and parcel of Billy's hidden inner self, almost as hidden as his reactions, in public. But these days, the mad reality of their continued survival made everything even sweeter, more precious to enjoy. He knew he was smiling in adoration, but he couldn't care who saw him, anymore. The preacher had been one of those caring for the two of them through their fevers: he knew exactly how close they were, and still had only had kind words for them. Goody would not hold back something as simple as a look. At least not in this town. His playful side was even trying to tempt him to ruffle the neat strands with his beard, though he knew well enough that that would be too far, even between a husband and wife.

Having forgotten their audience, he twitched slightly when the little one spoke up, turning his head to see her staring wide-eyed, not quite with his adoration, but an awe that he entirely agreed with, at the long sheet of hair that wisped up in the lazy breeze when Billy turned back enough to see the two of them, "It's *beautiful*!"

She even stepped closer to them, avoiding Goody's leg, to reach out and gently stroke it, both men staying quiet and unmoving, waiting for her. When she finally gave Billy a bright, gap-toothed smile, Goody almost teared up to see him hesitantly return it before he nodded at Goody and spoke with that same gentle tone he'd used before, one that usually was reserved for Goody's bad moments, "Goodnight is the one that brushes and puts it up every night."

She followed his look to Goodnight, her frown back, though less ferocious than before, biting her lip, and he smiled back gently, sitting back calm and un-threatening, willing to wait her out, thought wishing he'd thought to ask that the rocker be moved into the sun rather than sit on these hard steps. 

She finally gave a reluctant pout and shy "Okay", and Goody smiled a little deeper, nodding a ghost of a creaky seated bow, "Merci, mon cher." He reaches over to put the pins into one of Billy's hands, kept close to his body, and let her hesitantly come to stand in front of him at her own pace, with many half-suspicious half-confused looks at him. He'd have pulled his leg in to not crowd her, if he could.

 

As Goody held his hand out for her to choose to lend him the brush she'd, at a guess, been making a poor attempt at using and been caught by Goody's bored eyes, based on the tail-end of conversation he'd heard as he stepped into the open doorway, Billy carefully sat all the way down near them, keeping the flinch of pain from his face but for his eyes spasming shut.

The warm sun on his face helped him feel stronger and Billy amused himself debating the merits of the pain of shifting over, against the advantage of being able to lean on the railing instead of holding himself upright. 

"Can you make it like his?"

His eyes opened at the question, glad the child looked so much calmer and more at ease, now. His eyes met Goody's relaxed expression, something else to be glad for, and winked at him before carefully rising, "I'll go find something." Mrs. Cullen would no doubt lecture him when she found out he'd gone further than sitting at Goody's side, but Billy felt strong enough, and he'd felt better moving than sitting.

 

If he hadn't known exactly how badly Billy reacted to mothering, Goody would have insisted his injured mate stay the hell down. 

Instead he clenched his jaw and settled for watching that Billy was indeed able to walk well enough, and then made himself calm and get to the work he'd volunteered for. 

He remembered spotting this elfin petite among the gaggle that had trailed Billy while they worked; mostly because the sun turned her long pale-blond hair to an almost white banner when she ran among the dull browns and lively reds of most of the town. It now looked like Goody's. For that matter: Goody's after they'd been on a river-less trail for more than a week! It would take more than the no doubt pain-inducing angry jerks she'd been jabbing at it to undo the dust-mats and knots. 

Luckily, Billy had provided Goody with plenty of practise at it, over the years. Much of it following dealing with just such mulish glares as this dirt-covered urchin had been giving him, memory of which had Goody grinning to himself as he slowly and gently brushed away at hair much shorter, but just as soft, under the filth, as his lover's. 

Though little Danica needed to practise that glare if she planned to be as scary as Billy, Goody was glad her patience was obviously closer to a sharpshooter's: Billy would have been jerking to escape and snarling at him in Korean by the time he could actually take a stroke from top to tip without being stopped by a knot. And though his back was most earnestly displeased with him, the sun on his skin and the fresh air, as well as the soothing work, were doing wonders for his mind when his unwilling new friend broke their silence, though very very quietly, "My mommy's dead."

His breath and hand froze for a moment before he forced himself to acknowledge that she hadn't shifted after speaking, and made himself get back to the calm movements. "Yes. She is, ma petite." Along with too many others, including her father, though that was several months before, from what he recalled.

"Do you know what's going to happen to us?"

Goody thought of the three children, a barely-walking two-year-old girl, this wandering seven year-old, and a now too-old for his years twelve year old boy that had lost what mix of parents they'd had. Not having been in any condition to spend time chatting with the tired townsfolk, he only knew what his small squad of caregivers had mentioned in their efforts to distract him. 

He smiled sadly, "I fear I do not know the answer to that, ma petite. But try not to worry yourself too much. The good people of Rose Creek seem to care for their own, and even us strangers, quite well. Little ones like you won't be forgotten." Even if she'd been left to her own devices enough to be crouching besides the street in front of the saloon attempting to brush her own hair, she wasn't starved, nor truly unclean under a day's worth of dust, which also covered the worn, but whole, child's playing frock she wore; Goody trusted she had a bed and some watchers, though likely they were busy trying to repair the town or care for injured folks. He knew from dealing with Billy that hair like theirs would get in terrible condition shockingly fast when left loose as hers was.

"Do you have children?"

Safely hidden behind the child, Goody flinched, and he had to work to keep his movements steady. No simple memory, but an old *feeling* of being a failure echoing past years where he'd never even thought of it, quieting his voice, "No, ma belle, I do not."

"Does mr. Rocks?"

The first reflex, to smile at the child's straight thought process, stalled when he realized he didn't know how Billy actually felt about it. "No. No, Billy doesn't have children either." -at least insofar as Goody knew. Which he was fairly sure meant no; Billy had, over the years, stumbled through telling him about a great many things he'd lived through, just as Goody had managed to find the words for his own nightmares.

He had to adjust his stroke when the child turned her head halfway and tilted to look at him with one eye, "Don't you like children?"

Goody blinked in surprise before catching himself and trying to smile kindly, knowing he should have expected the question, at this point. But the many-layers of the answer were far too complicated and dangerous to speak to anyone but Billy, let along this small child only worried of where the adults around her were going to put her. "The life Billy and I lead isn't.. really one to force children through."

"Oh." Goody hoped the conversation was over, especially when he saw Billy limping back slowly from the direction of the general store, amid shocked stares at his never-seen wild hair, though her continued eye on him warned of a different scenario. 

"But aren't you going to stay here, now?" She finally turned that watchful eye away from Goody, turning it instead on Billy when he stepped closer, and Goody looked up at his friend, seeing surprise flash across his eyes before they locked with Goody's questioningly.

Goody shrugged, a silent promise to explain the subject to Billy later, "For a time, certainly." Neither of them could pretend that riding would be anything but short-lived torture to be borne only for survival, at the moment, but he was not about to give the already traumatized child false ideas.

Goody reached out to take the short knitting needles in Billy's hand, glaring at him from behind the child's head so he would sit his injured ass down before the shake Goody could see in his limbs sent him crashing down. It wasn't as though Goody would be able to do anything but throw himself before him as cushion. Which would result in them both being bedridden for yet more weeks. Assuming they didn't break their necks. And survived the truly epic screaming lectures they would earn themselves.

Billy rolled his eyes at him, but was at least wise enough to sit down. Right besides Goody. And if Goody happened to have an arm with an empty hand out where Billy's hips were and happened to slow their precipitous descent, albeit with a flinch at the pull to his back, well, young Danica was looking at Red, trailing a deer-laden horse and four of the other littles of the town. The foolishness of two grown men were of no interest to her.

Once Billy was safely on his sweet rear, Goody stiffly got back to his duty, brush now set aside on the planks besides him and the pins between his teeth, trying to convince the child's shorter and wispier than Billy's locks to wrap into some simile of a neat bun. 

*Not* helped by her suddenly turning to look at Billy with a blood-thirsty grin Goody could faintly recall his cousin Will wearing when they thought it would be an adventure to ride Mr. Pattison's new colt, "Would you teach me to throw them like you do?"

Billy's head spun to Goody, though his panicked expression changed to a flinch at the un-wise movement. Unable to answer with pins in his teeth and his hands full of slippery hair, Goody raised his brows to indicate his lack of ideas for a response. The women, and likely the men as well, would almost certainly pitch a fit at a girl-child throwing sharp implements at the teaching of someone who used knives to kill.

Yet. Mrs. Cullen had led the riflemen during the battle. And several other women had been hidden on other roofs and behind doors with riffles. The young miss Criley had even taken Red's first perch to fire her own bow from, though with her parents' outraged discouragement. And he'd learned to shoot around her age.

"Well...?" The grin had faded even faster than it had appeared at their silence, and Goody carefully got the main pin in place, hoping they hadn't managed to make the child's day worse.

"If you still wish, when I can throw again, we will speak."

Second pin safely decorating his work, Goody looked up at Billy, thinking of his earlier realization that they'd never spoken about children. His lover didn't look particularly comfortable with the situation, but Goody knew he would never lie about something like this, which meant he was willing to stay here even once they were in better shape. And willing to spend time teaching a child a skill Goody knew was no easy trick.

Looks like they were going to be staying here a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Meaning of Danica: Morning Star, Origin: slavic
> 
> [writer_rambles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_rambles/profile) made some tender art of the boys [here](http://lostthecreativity.tumblr.com/post/157753684514/goody-would-not-hold-back-something-as-simple-as-a)


End file.
